Cabin Fever (7 page)

His eyes flared. “Yeah?”

“Well I didn’t exactly answer your question, you kind of guided me.”

He leaned a bit closer, and she realized she’d swayed closer as well. “I’d say you’re right…”

His hand slipped behind the nape of her neck and drew her down.

Man, the guy could kiss. He made no allowances for his invalid status, he just angled her head and dived right in. It didn’t take her long to respond to his enthusiasm. She was the first one to flick her tongue out against his lips. He grunted and tangled his against hers, then flicked it into her mouth, over and over. When she became more aggressive, nipping at his lower lip and drawing it into her mouth to suckle it, he groaned and sank his other hand into her hair.

Passion overtook her brain. She no longer cared about who he was or where he was from. All that mattered was that he was a man, she was a woman, and they wanted each other very badly. Everything else could work itself out later.

His palm slid down her throat, continuing until he completely covered her breast. He didn’t even have to do anything else; the mere touch of his hand caused her nipple to harden. Her fingers clenched on his belly, kneading the hard flesh. He squeezed her breast in reaction.

His next sound was more shocked as her hand slid lower, taking the covers with it, until her palm rested over his groin. His cock was so hard, the fat tip had punched out past the elastic waistband of the boxers.

He tore his mouth away from hers. Both of them were breathing heavy. They stared at each other for a moment, connected physically through the intimate touch on her breast and his cock. The cotton separating their flesh could just as well been nonexistent.

God it felt so good, the passion and excitement rolling inside of her. No guilt or worries, though they would probably come later.

He raised his other hand to her, but she caught the flinch as his injury pulled. Genevieve linked her fingers through his and brought it down to his side. “Stop moving.”

His smile was a baring of teeth. “I told you I don’t take orders in bed well.”

The spurt of power surprised her. “You don’t have any choice right now, though, do you? Stay still.”

When he froze, she questioned her method. What exactly did she hope to accomplish here?

“Kiss me again,” he murmured.

Well, that she could do. She leaned in, savoring every second of the moment.

This kiss was slower, a natural progression of rising lust. It seemed right to keep her hand over his cock, to try to get rid of the barrier. He raised his hips slightly when she slid his boxers out of the way and caught the heavy weight of his erection in her hand. He gasped as if she’d goosed him with an electrical current.

She drew away and looked down. The tip of his penis was already wet, the dark skin stretched and tight. A stab of uncertainty hit her. “Tell me if I do something wrong. I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Are you kidding me? You touching me…it’s like a dream. Besides, it’s been a long time for me too,” he admitted.

“I wouldn’t think you’d have a problem finding a lover.”

“I’ve been busy. I’m particular.” His eyes literally rolled back when she grasped his cock. “God, that feels good.”

“You’re not busy now.”

“No.”

Genevieve tightened her hand around his penis, stroking up and using the bead of pre-come at the tip to ease her way. It was unnerving how he watched her with those black eyes. There was pleasure there, but she detected a hint of dissatisfaction. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I want to touch you too.”

Her body yearned for him. “Next time.”

“Will there be a next time?”

What was the point in being demure? His breath hissed out as her hand tightened on him. “Yes.”

When he became greedy, though, and started to arch his hips into her touch, she stopped and placed her other hand on his stomach. “No moving or you’ll hurt yourself.”

He stilled instantly.

Ooooh. This is fun.

Genevieve lost herself in touching his body, taking control of his pleasure. His quiet gasps and the slight slap of his flesh in hers filled the room. There was an erotic charge in handling his race to orgasm as he lay there helpless.

He wrapped his other hand around hers, tightening her fingers far more than she would have on her own. “Harder. Faster now.”

She gave special attention to that little area under the mushroomed head, and he muttered curse words in rising pleasure. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

Her thighs clenched in excitement. She wanted to see him come, wanted to watch him reach completion. His big golden body was stretched taut. She sped her strokes until his hips arched and he gave a shout. Streams of semen shot out of his cock to land on his rippled abs. She stared at the display. Something that had always seemed rather messy and unpleasant looked…wonderful.

Mine.

Genevieve blinked, a bit startled at that dark, possessive whisper in her mind. Yes. That semen didn’t belong on him, it belonged on her, in her. He was hers, completely.

And she was his. Completely.

Her body shook, partly with the aftershocks of pleasure, but mostly with fright. No, she belonged to no man.

Liar.

She couldn’t be in a relationship.

Too bad.

Stop it!

“Genevieve?”

She blinked, brought his worried face into focus. What had she been thinking?

She hadn’t. Like a man, she’d been thinking with her libido. “You look tired. We shouldn’t have done this.”

“If I was well…if we’d met normally…would you want to?”

“What, have sex?”

“Yes.”

Hell, yes. “Maybe.”

His black eyes burned. “I’m going to be well. Very soon.”

Genevieve shivered at the promise in his tone. “It would just be sex though. Nothing else.” She wasn’t at liberty to promise anything else.

“We’ll see.”

“You shouldn’t overdo anymore now.”

Alex gave a short laugh. “No kidding. Tell that to Mr. Happy.”

At that prompt, she glanced down at his erection, which, sure enough, poked up against the sheets, as if it hadn’t just been thoroughly satisfied. Well wasn’t her pussy still throbbing and wet? She knew with certainty she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had him inside of her. Many, many times.

And that scared the pants off her.

“Let’s take it a bit slower, okay?” He spoke softly, as if he were dealing with a timid animal. “Why don’t you get me a towel, and we can play something else? We can talk a bit more, get to know each other. How’s that?”

She considered it. Okay, yes. This she could handle. After all, it wasn’t like she could run away from him. Where would she go?

Despite her bone-deep certainty that this man would change her life, could easily make her forget her vow, make her forget everything important, she didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to laugh and joke and talk with him, and when he was able, she fully intended to have sex with him.

Call her stupid. She couldn’t help herself. Genevieve stood. “Sounds good. Let me get a towel. Be right back.”

When she reached the door, he called out behind her. “You’re an arsonist on the run. That’s why you hate cops.”

Her lips twitched, a glimmer of her normal sassiness returning as she tossed her hair. “Soot makes me sneeze. Guess again.”

I
t would be
hell if he survived a gunshot wound, infection, dehydration and exhaustion only to die of sexual frustration.

Alex cast a quick glance at Genevieve across the chessboard they were sharing. Her eyes were cast down, her lashes long crescents resting against her cheeks. She nibbled at her lower lip and he almost groaned. Damn it, he loved it when she did that.

He sighed and looked down at the chessboard. After their run of cards had ended so spectacularly two days ago, they’d tacitly decided to turn to other modes of enjoyment. Yesterday had been Scrabble; chess today. Alex had been a bit unnerved by the emotions that had flashed across Genevieve’s face after their passionate session together. He didn’t want to spook her, cause her to run because she was scared of the heat that exploded between them. The emotions too. He couldn’t believe these strong feelings were one-sided. They had to be returned, right? God, he hoped so.

So he’d decided to be gallant if it killed him. No more sex until a) he was healed enough to give her the unbridled pleasure she deserved and b) he was well enough to snuggle off any of her fears after the fact.

They still slept together at night, and Alex hated it and loved it in equal measure. Having her body pressed against him without sinking inside of her was an exercise in torture, but she smelled so sweet and she became incredibly soft and cuddly after she fell asleep.

“Queen me.”

He refocused on the game and gave a silent groan to see her pawn had made its journey. He was proud to say he’d won the first couple of games they’d played. Then he’d started noticing things, like the way her breasts peeked out over the neckline of her shirt, or how she licked her lips while thinking, and he’d started a losing streak that hadn’t quit.

You are not controlled by your cock.

Great. Now someone just needed to tell Mr. Hopeful that. Alex figured the guy was getting back at him for making some very unpopular decisions about their sex life.

“Checkmate.”

He looked down, unsurprised to see the truth in that. “Congratulations. Again.”

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty good. You’ll get better.”

He’d gone to state championships back in high school. He sighed. “Okay, what’s your question?” The question-and-answer thing they’d continued, though Alex had toned down the sexual nature of his questions to go along with their mutual agreement to wait. He’d learned quite a bit about her and her life, probably more than she even realized she’d told him.

She’d painted a picture of a lonely little girl who’d always been different, who lived alone with her beloved mother isolated in the woods, who had craved normalcy and embraced it when she’d left for school and work. She’d kept her gift hidden from everyone, pretended to be just like everyone else, and loved life, thriving in the middle of a busy city.

Until she hit twenty-three. Since she was twenty-six now, Alex figured that had been the age when something had happened. It was like her life had ended at that point. She wouldn’t speak of anything after it, nor would she speak of the future. She made monthly trips to Newbury for provisions, made enough to live on by selling her crafts to a gift shop, but it didn’t seem as though she had any burning passion for that job. She seemed to view it as just a way to make a few bucks and survive. When he’d asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, instead of answering him, she’d pressed a soft kiss against his lips in forfeit. Her eyes had been so heavy with sadness, he couldn’t bring himself to badger.

He knew she’d returned to take care of her mother, but why she had stayed after her death was a mystery. Likewise, despite his half-teasing questions, he still didn’t know why she didn’t trust cops.

He watched her study him. So far he’d answered each of her questions honestly, no matter how painful. He’d spilled everything about his father’s death, his first girlfriend, the first time his mother had dated another man, and the list went on and on. Alex hoped his openness would encourage her, would show her how much he trusted her on faith alone. Otherwise, he was really bleeding his veins out here for her.

He braced himself for another doozy, and he received it. “Why did you move down here?”

Alex froze, seriously contemplating a forfeit for the first time.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I can ask another question.”

Her expression was so soft and open, he couldn’t fabricate or not talk about it. Besides, his department-appointed therapist had urged him to discuss the experience with people. He didn’t know how much he believed in that psychology shit, but if he wanted Genevieve to open up to him, he couldn’t be a pussy about it himself.

“I told you my partner died last year. I was narcotics, and we were conducting some surveillance on this mid-level dealer. We followed him to an abandoned warehouse. I called in backup as soon as we realized it was the drug deal we were waiting for, and then we took up place to watch and wait.”

He paused, remembering the exact instant Tom Leonie’s head had jerked up, the second the dealer had realized someone else was in that abandoned building. “To this day, I don’t know what noise Jerry made, how they knew where he was. I could see him jerking and spinning, and in a minute, I knew he was dead. No way he could have survived that many shots.

“I took one slug in the thigh when I returned fire, not that it helped much. I couldn’t draw my weapon fast enough to save Jerry.” Alex coughed to clear the rough sound of his voice. “Firing after the fact didn’t help anything. Backup showed up right after I got hit. Great for me, but no good for him.”

Her voice wasn’t horrified, but reasonable. “How many guys were you up against?”

“Four. One of them pulled the trigger on Jerry. All of them opened fire on me once I started shooting.”

“Let me guess. You think you could have taken all of them out before they shot your partner?”

“How’d you know? It sounds crazy when you say it like that.”

“I know a little something about guilt.” Her tone was very dry.

“That’s what the shrink told me. Survivor’s guilt, she called it. I don’t know. In reality, I know I couldn’t have done anything, it was such a split-second thing. I can’t help but feel like if I’d just responded a little faster… I’d known the guy since the academy. Had dinner with his family. I should’ve done something more. Instead, all I could do was wait. Sit there with his body no more than twenty feet away till backup showed up.”

“I think you did the right thing.” Genevieve surprised him by leaning forward and giving him an awkward hug. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

His heart expanded. She was so prickly, he relished this, her first overt expression of tenderness. He pulled her close until she cuddled against his chest. She was surprisingly accommodating.

“Anyway, after that, I had a tough time returning to work. To see Jerome’s desk and the gym and even the coffee shop without him there, I was a mess. My brother heard about this job from his girlfriend’s brother and, well, here I am.”

“You didn’t consider leaving police work? Something like that would make me seriously reconsider even staying in the same field.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m third generation. My grandfather was the first Hispanic man on his force. I can’t just stop being a police officer.”

“That’s not the only reason you’re a cop, though, right?”

“No. Of course not. It’s about serving, protecting. It’s incredibly fulfilling.”

“Is it still as fulfilling down here?”

Alex paused. It wasn’t the same thing. He wasn’t putting away the scum of the earth or keeping the public safe from anything more severe than jaywalkers. His job wasn’t about fulfillment in Harrison. It was just…a job. But he was a cop. That was the important thing. Honestly, if he lost that title, he wasn’t sure what he was.

Since he didn’t want to contemplate it too severely, he tried to inject more enthusiasm into his voice than he felt. “Sure. Doesn’t matter how big a town is. Everyone needs law and order.”

Her smile was the softest he’d ever seen it. “I can tell you really believe in the system. That’s great.”

Alex raised a brow. “Why do I get the feeling you’re patronizing me?”

“I’m not.”

“I’m not naïve. There are shades of grey everywhere, I get that. But, yeah, for the most part, there’s a right and a wrong way to go about things.”

She was silent, but she didn’t move from his arms. “Yeah. So you like living there?”

Alex tried to choose his words carefully, since he knew, for some reason, it mattered to Genevieve. “I like the pace. I like the size of the town, that I know who most people are, and they know me. The scenery’s nice too. My apartment’s decent. But it’s not in my blood or anything, the way this place might be in yours.”

“This place isn’t in my blood.”

So why do you stay?
He didn’t want to get into a fight though, not when she was curled so soft and sweet against him. He rubbed his chin against the top of her head. The strands got stuck in his beard. “Sorry.”

She drew away, untangling them. “You need to shave.”

Time for a lighter tone. “That would be wonderful. Got a razor?”

“Oh. Um. Sure. Hang on.”

She escaped to the bathroom where she popped a new razor cartridge into her shaver and grabbed the other supplies he would need. Her hands were shaking, she was surprised to notice. His tale of woe had affected her more than she’d thought.

Damn it, she didn’t want to see him hurt. Every hour that she spent with him, she fell a little bit more in…

Lust. That was all it was. Pure lust. “Just bang him and get it over with,” she muttered to herself. Hell, why not? They both knew where this was headed.

She was still giving herself a pep talk when she returned to the room. She set down the towels, the bowl of hot water she’d drawn from the bathroom sink and the shaving supplies. “I brought you a mirror. Do you want me to hold it?”

He ran his hand over his jaw. “Actually, do you mind doing the shaving? I’m afraid to allow myself near my own throat with a razor. My hand’s still shaky.”

“You trust me with a blade to your throat?”

“I think I’ve established that I trust you with my life in every way,” he said simply. She felt equally humbled and envious. How nice to be that certain of anything.

She cleared her throat. “Sure. You’re going to smell a bit like pomegranates. Hope that’s okay.” She held up the pink can of shaving foam she used.

He eyed the can warily. “Since I didn’t know pomegranates even had a scent, I guess that will have to do. I don’t mind if you don’t.”

Like she cared what his jaw smelled like. Unwilling to damage his trust, she took her time shaving him, leaving not a single nick on his rough skin. When she patted away the remaining foam, he smiled, revealing a heretofore unnoticed dimple in his cheek, and she caught her breath. She’d been wholly unsuccessful in resisting the charm of her scruffy, manly houseguest. But with his beard gone, Alex was simply beautiful, his features picture perfect. Had he showed up on her door looking like this, she probably would have dropped her panties on the spot.

Yeah, ’cause you’re playing so hard to get.

“How do I look?”

“Great.” Her throat was hoarse, so she tried again. “Really good.”

“Thanks. I feel so much better. You know what else would help?”

Alex tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear in a blatantly possessive move. She’d gotten so used to his touch over the past couple of days, it no longer shocked her, though a thrill coursed through her limbs when he drew one finger down her cheek. The calluses rasped against her skin, and he captured her chin in his fingers. He held her trapped there, looking into her eyes.

And just that easily, the world was reduced to the two of them. While they were bantering and chatting, she’d try to convince herself that their physical chemistry was all a part of her imagination, but a touch, a look, and she was ready to melt again. “What would help?”

Alex tugged her closer, his breath fanning over her lips. Her nipples tightened, a response she was well accustomed to by now. “A bath. I would love a bath.”

She cleared her throat and escaped his grasp. “That’s tough.” Her voice was rough, and she cleared her throat again. “I don’t have a bathtub.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman without a bathtub.”

“I have a perfectly fine shower,” she said defensively.

“Yeah, but”—Alex shook his head, a bemused expression on his face—“wouldn’t you love to lounge in a bath of hot water every now and again? Most women I’ve known would rather die than be separated from their bath salts.”

Oh, yeah, to linger in a bath of steaming hot water filled with sweet-smelling salts while Alex massaged foaming shampoo through the strands of her hair. Genevieve caught the whimper of longing before it rose from her throat. No, she was no different from most women. But her mother had been a no-nonsense woman who never encouraged the slightest bit of hedonistic behavior, and since her death Genevieve hadn’t seen the point in installing a bathtub just for herself.

But oh, how she wished she had, for the pleasure of imagining Alex in it. To feel like a normal woman with a normal life.

She shook her head to disguise her longing. “That’s pretty silly,” she said briskly, gathering the shaving supplies up. “There are far more important things to die for than bath salts.”

Alex’s gaze sharpened. “Maybe you can tell me some of those things.” He held up a hand. “In the meantime, shower?”

“One more day…”

“Genevieve, please. I’m feeling pretty grungy. I want to get clean. And I know I can make it. I can’t lie here forever.”

Genevieve’s first instinct was to deny his claim, but then she studied him closely. His color was up, and he sat a lot easier now than he had at first. Part of his motivation was no doubt the desire to get away from the dreaded bedpan and her assistance with things like brushing his teeth, but he probably could make it on his own.

She felt equal amounts of satisfaction and sadness. The quicker he healed, the faster he would walk out of her life. He was fun and funny, and he had slipped right under her guard. “Okay, you win. Let’s give it a try. Here, let me take off your bandage first.”